"We thought," Julie said, "that this'd be as good a place as any to have lunch."
"Sounds good," Scott said.
After a lunch of gorp, dehydrated fruit slices, shortbread cookies, and Tropical Chocolate bars, they resumed the hike. At first, the weight of his pack felt unbearable to Nick. His shoulders and back throbbed with pain, and his legs seemed barely capable of supporting him. He felt like collapsing, but forced himself to take one step after another. Slowly, the torment faded, as if his body were giving up its rebellion, accepting its role as a beast of burden.
He walked behind Julie and matched his stride to hers. Her boots were powdered with trail dust. One sock was slightly lower than the other. The seat of her white shorts had two half-moons of yellow-brown dirt from sitting down, and he could see the outline of her panties through the thin fabric. The panties were very brief. Like a bikini bottom. "Did you bring a bathing suit?" he asked.
"Sure. You?"
"Yeah."
"Water's so cold, though. We'd freeze our butts." "Those girls swam."
"Must be polar bears."
"Probably not bad, once you're in it."
"Depends. Some lakes aren't so bad."
"Warmer if they're shallow," Nick said.
"Depends on the runoff, too."
"Way I feel, I'd swim in ice cubes."
"We get to Wilson in time, I'd give it a try."
They trudged along in silence. Looking up the slope, Nick could see where the mountainside ended. It didn't seem far above them, but he realized that the view might be deceiving. The area that appeared to be the top from here might turn out to be a shelf, the rest of the mountain farther back and out of sight. He tried not to let his hopes get too high.
He and Julie were still a distance below the apparent top, however, when the trail, instead of switching back, continued forward and curved around the slope. A strong, cool wind blew against Nick. Julie stopped. He moved up beside her. She smiled at him. "What do you know," she said.
"Didn't think we'd ever make it."
Ahead of them, the trail wound over a flat, barren area between two bluffs. Then it dropped out of sight. In the distance, Nick saw peaks shrouded by clouds. A few minutes of hiking took them across the level area. They shed their packs and sat on a block of granite. From there, the trail started gradually downward along a narrow ridge. To the right of the ridge was a deep ravine. To the left was a shallow valley with two lakes. The lower lake, no more than a hundred feet below their perch, was larger than the other, bounded by rocky slopes except for a small stand of pine at its western shore. The upper lake, just above its southwest end, looked treeless and even more desolate.
"Must be the Mesquites," Nick said.
"The ranger was right. They're the pits."
"I don't see anyone down there."
"The Madwoman of the Mesquites?" Julie asked.
"She's probably moved on. I mean, who'd want to camp there? Looks like the backside of the moon."
"I hope Lake Wilson's better than these."
"The ranger said it was nice. Besides, it's about a thousand feet lower."
"What is it, three or four miles?"
"Something like that."
Nick followed the trail with his eyes. It passed above Lower Mesquite, and vanished behind a steep wall of granite. "At least it'll be downhill," he said.
"Sometimes that's worse."
"Yeah. Gets you in the toes."
"And everywhere else."
Scott and Karen arrived. They took off their packs, and settled down on a nearby boulder. Karen lifted her blouse again and tied it in front as she'd done when they stopped for lunch. "Ah," she said, "that wind's terrific."
"I don't like the looks of those clouds," Scott said.
The clouds hugging the distant peaks were thick and gray. Nick figured that they must be at least ten miles away.
"I don't think I'd mind a little rain," Karen said.
"It'd put a damper on dinner."
"Maybe it'll miss us," Julie said.
Scott shook his head. "Looks like they're coming our way. These mountain storms are unpredictable, though. Could pass over us without leaving a drop. Or we might be in for it. Only time will tell."
"Time wounds all heals," Karen said.
"Time's like hiking, then," Scott added.
"Like Benny," Julie said. "He's the greatest heel wounder of all time."
Scott looked pained. "Why don't you ease up on that? Benny feels bad enough without your help."
"He's not here."
Scott ignored the remark and stared out over the valley. Karen leaned back against her pack. She folded her hands on top of her head, mashing the soft crown of her hat. "I wonder," she said, "if Heather can make it as far as Wilson."
Chapter Sixteen
Ettie watched with despair through a crevice in the rocks. Luck had sure turned against them. Maybe the Master was dishing out punishment, paying them back for what Merle did to those other two campers — claiming he offered them down when he did no such thing, but just went at them for his own need and then laid it on the Master.
Then again, maybe Ettie wasn't judging the matter right. Could be a test. Maybe even an offering. She'd have to find out for sure, so she'd know what to do.
One thing was sure: the campers were fixing to stay. They were down in the clearing by the trees, setting up four tents, a kid in glasses rounding up rocks to build a fireplace.
Ettie eased away from the crevice and made her way across the slope to the cave entrance. Turning sideways, she squeezed through the opening. The murky light inside seemed very dark after the brightness, but she saw the dim shape of Merle sprawled out on one of the sleeping bags. She sat down on the other bag. Sunlight from the fissure overhead made a hot band along her crossed legs. She leaned back slightly against the cool granite wall.
"You awake, Merle?"
"Just laying here. I sure like this sleeping bag. It's the softest thing."
"We've got some folks down by the lake."
He sat up so fast that it startled Ettie.
"Just stay put," she warned.
He was almost to his feet, but he dropped down again as if his legs had gone soft. "Can't I see 'em, Ettie?"
"Just sit still."
"Who are they?" he asked.
"How'd I know that?"
"They snooping?"
"They're putting up a camp. One's soaking her foot in the lake. She came limping in pretty bad. I guess she hurt herself in the pass. I figure that's maybe why they stopped."
"A girl?"
"Don't get your heat up. They got three men along."
"Can't I just look?"
"I'll tell you when you can look. We're gonna stay put till I've got it figured out."
"Well, how many are there?"
"Nine."
"Nine, and just three of 'em men?"
"There's some kids, don't look older than twelve. And three women."
"How old are they?"
"Never you mind."
"Are they pretty?"
"Fetch me the coyote skin."
Obediently, Merle crawled past the head of her sleeping bag. He rummaged through a dark pile at the far end of the chamber and came back with the pelt of a coyote he had snared two weeks before. "What're you fixing to do?" he asked.
"Read the signs. Maybe these folks come here by chance, or maybe the Master sent them."
"Think He wants 'em offered down?"
"I don't know what to make of it. Could be we're out of favor and He sent them to punish us."
"Why'd He do that, Ettie?"
"Not saying He did. I'm saying He might've. Now you just shush, and let me find out."
She got to her knees and spread the coyote pelt on the sleeping bag. Then she unsheathed her knife. "O great Master," she intoned, "Shadow of the Dark, give us a sign that we, Your servants, may know Your will." With the knife, she carved a crescent on her left forearm. Blood spilled out, pattering on the coyote skin. "Give us wisdom, Master, that we may abide by Your way." She slowly waved her cut arm back and forth over the skin, then held it steady while she sheathed her knife. "Count backward from thirteen," she told Merle. Together, they counted down. When they reached one, she swung in her arm and tied a kerchief around the wound.